The Worth of a Woman
by 50251sid
Summary: A rejected, dejected Vannozza finds solace from an unexpected source


Once there was a woman

She wore beige and light grey

Nobody saw her.

Did that beige and grey exterior,

Respectable, domesticated, camouflage her that well,

Or did they just not bother to look?

She had a spirit

It laughed long and loudly at dirty jokes

It danced madly when it thought no one was looking

It ran off with His Imperial Hotness and devoured him

It swam topless on the Riviera and climbed K2 alone

It surfed the Pipeline and ran with the bulls

It imploded buildings

It captivated princes and tyrants

It ministered to the indigent and dying

It exposed crooked politicians and crusaded for workers' rights

It sang opera at the Met

And it wrote down its memoirs.

You who read these words

Do you see her?

Vannozza Cattanei was a beautiful woman, with rich chestnut hair and warm brown eyes that glowed with an inner humor. Her voice was that of a dove and her laugh was like church bells calling out to worshippers. She had soft, cool hands and danced and moved gracefully. She discoursed with intelligence and wit to guests at her dinner table. She ordered her household efficiently and offered thoughtful counsel to her maturing children.

Vannozza Cattanei was many things but there was one thing she no longer was.

Youthful.

That would not have mattered to most husbands, who would have looked back on a lifetime of sharing love, passion, tender care, children, shifting fortunes, sorrow, triumphs.

Rodrigo Borgia was not most men. He was not even her husband.

It had hurt when he told her he could no longer have her live with him. The Pope must be _seen _to be chaste, he had intoned grandly.

So she packed up her household and moved to new quarters, along with her two younger children, Lucrezia and Joffre. Her elder sons, Cesare and Juan, remained with their father.

She could no longer kiss or embrace Rodrigo. Not even in private. Her "little goat" had left her.

It was a bitter pill. She had no choice but to swallow it. The Papacy trumped everything. It was what Rodrigo had spent his life pursuing. Vannozza retired to her house and her bed, empty of Rodrigo now, as empty as her heart.

The news of Rodrigo's new mistress landed on Vannozza like a collapsing wall.

Giulia Farnese. No doubt paraded before Rodrigo by his cousin Adriana in an effort to advance her family's fortunes. But while Adriana may have offered her daughter-in-law to Rodrigo, he did not have to reach for her.

How _could_ he? What happened to his vaunted public show of chastity? He had installed this girl into Vannozza's former Vatican apartments and had her portrait painted by Pinturicchio. Most cutting of all, Vannozza's own daughter, Lucrezia, had become fast friends with Giulia.

When Lucrezia had innocently revealed Giulia's presence in Rodrigo's life and residence, Vannozza had exploded. Loudly and tearfully, she had confronted him before his council. Rodrigo may be Pope of Rome and head of the Church, but, like most men, he quailed like a coward in the face of a woman weeping furious tears and spitting curses at him. Particularly this woman, companion and lover of many years, mother to four children by him, advisor, consoler _… wife_!

Still, there was to be no remedy. In Giulia, out Vannozza.

In the pleasant garden of the palace Rodrigo had given her as a buyout, she gazed at her reflection in a calm pool and forced herself to see the lines in her aging face reflected by the water. She saw not the richness of maturity or wisdom or life well-lived. She saw only lines. Her eyes filled with bitter tears that dropped into the pool, creating concentric circles over the placid surface.

"My Lady Vannozza."

The greeting made her jump, startled out of her preoccupation.

Embarrassed, Vannozza moved to quickly brush away her tears and smile at Rodrigo's Vice Chancellor.

"Cardinal Sforza. I did not hear you enter."

"I asked your servant not to announce me. Perhaps that was rude of me. I did not mean to come upon you unawares."

"Of course, I am pleased to see you. Did the Holy Father send you?"

"No, my lady. I came of my own accord. Your absence from the Vatican has distressed me. I wanted to call upon you to be sure you are well."

"How kind of you, Your Eminence. As you can see, I am perfectly fine."

"Forgive me, Vannozza, but I don't believe you are being entirely truthful with me. I could not help but see that you were weeping."

"A woman's foolishness. The beauty of the garden and the day moved me to tears."

"If beauty is reason for crying, then I should be weeping at the sight of you."

"Cardinal…."

"Please let me speak, Vannozza. I have stood aside for so long, watching you from the shadows. His Holiness has cast you aside. He is a fool. A lecherous, deluded fool. He never deserved you, and now even less so. Do not let him hurt you or cause you to question your worth as a woman or as a person. You are a rare treasure, a pearl among women."

The Cardinal grasped Vannozza's soft hand and brought it to his lips.

"Your Eminence….Ascanio…I had no idea…."

"Forgive me if I spoke out of turn. I will leave now and trouble you no more."

"Please stay, won't you? I would like it so much if you would join me in my garden and talk to me of treasure. And pearls."

Cardinal Sforza kissed her hand again.

"With the example I have before me, I can discourse like an expert."


End file.
